


Treaty

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [43]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7795867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Handwriting is a dying art.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Treaty

Kylo’s brow arches, and he watches Poe with absolute intent. Poe doesn’t meet his eyes, too busy focusing on his work; his brow creasing with how much he wants this to be just so. There’s a tiny poke of tongue past lips, and his nose squirms as he forces his hands to mix the fluid as he wants it. 

It’s dark, a rich, burned-sky red-brown of melted chocolate flecks suspended in a light, edible oil. The pot sits over a tiny little fondue flame, and whirrs itself to keep it from settling. Poe has a narrow-nibbed, bright gold calligraphic pen in his hand, and he keeps dropping more flakes in, darkening the ink. When he’s happy with it, he looks up. 

Kylo is sitting on the bed, hands knotted in a silk scarf above his head. He’s still tingly from being bathed clean with the sponge and warm water, and shaved of what little hair sneaks over his chest. His feet press together at the soles, and silk winds around them, too. 

“Ready, babe?”

Kylo’s throat burns when he nods. He’s eager to watch this. Handwriting is a dying art, and this isn’t exactly a permanent canvas, even if the message is meant to be. 

Poe holds the datapad close with the pre-written agreements. Statements of intent, promises of support and forgiveness. Poe decided to draft them one day when Kylo was feeling more vulnerable than usual; convinced that his past sins would somehow rack up in Poe’s mind and destroy things, that they were a sleeping Rancor impossible to ignore forever. 

That his dark days would win out. 

A pact. A contract. A treaty, and a cessation of hostilities. The formal words acknowledging his past, and closing the door. A new arrangement, with rules and assurances. Maybe it’s the politician’s blood coursing through him, but it soothes his worries and he feels safe in their clausal embrace. 

Now their terms are set, Poe lifts the pen and dips it deeply. His lines and curves wobble slightly as he gets used to the parchment of his skin, and Kylo gasps at the slightly scratchy warmth. It doesn’t break the skin, but the heat makes his body flush below the words. He peers down, letting his body take over, trying to feel all of this he can and locking the memory like a holocron inside for later darkness. 

_I promise. I promise. I promise._

Kylo trusts Poe means those things he offers, and he knows he means his answering overtures. This is them. 

The ink cools, the swirl of Poe’s signature finishing the process. Kylo closes his eyes. 

“Take a picture, before you clean it off,” he insists, softly. 

“Don’t worry. I will.”

Poe pushes his knees wider. 

“But first… I’m sealing our deal.”

The pilot’s mouth opens, and Kylo groans as his beloved's lips take him deep inside. He can’t thrust, can’t move, can only enjoy the gift that is his lover. His own ink is white to Poe’s russet, and he writes wordless contracts in his mouth. This is just as binding.


End file.
